The Rock Named Pariah
by Ionaf
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley accidentally meet by the lake and end up on the road to friendship. But there's more to this story than that. Please R&R. [this is a really long story]
1. Chapter One

**Title – ****The Rock Named Pariah**

**Disclaimer** – This plot line belongs entirely to me, me, me. The characters, world, and spells, etc., all belong to J.K. Rowling and Arthur A. Levine books and Scholastic. Any article used from either of the Harry Potter movies belongs to Warner Brothers. I have no association with J.K. Rowling or any of her alliances, and any of the plotlines this story was based on belongs to J.K. Rowling. 

**Chapter One – **

It was the beginning of July. Ginny Weasley put down her quill, taking in the heat of the afternoon. 

She decided to put off her holiday work for a bit and go downstairs for some cold milk, or perhaps, some ice-cold lemonade. Running down the stairs, she remembered that she had left her favorite mug in her room. 

Running back upstairs, she grabbed the mug and called Ron from the attic to come down to the kitchen. 

"Coming! Just let me give Pig this treat," grumbled Ron. Pig had been unusually annoying since last term.  

"Hogwarts letters!" called Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny bumbled down that stairs once more to find George and Fred on top of each other in front of Percy's room on the second landing. 

Ginny carefully treaded around the twins and down to the kitchen. 

Just then, a small _pop sounded, followed by a thud. It seemed that Percy had apparated home from work. _

He had apparated into his room, opened the door, walked, tripped and fell on top of the twins. 

To make matters worse, Ron was yelling at Pig while running down the stairs, his head turned toward the attic. 

Of course, he didn't see the twins and Percy, so _he_ tripped and fell on top with a high-pitched shriek from Percy and groans from the twins. "What the hell d'you think you all are doing here?!" yelled Ron. 

"Yeah, what the hell _are you doing here, piled up like carcasses in front of my door?" complained Percy. _

"What did _we do? What did _we_ do, Percy? George here tripped on the picture of __your Penelope while coming down the stairs! And Fred here tripped over me!" said the twins. _

"Geroff me, Perce! Geroff me, Ron! Geroff ME, ALL OF YOU!" exclaimed George. 

"_ALL_ OF YOU BETTER GET DOWN HERE _THIS INSTANT_, BEFORE I CALL YOUR FATHER!" went Mrs.Weasley, clutching a soapy pot in her left hand and a sponge in the other. 

Ginny laughed as everyone tried to straighten themselves out, but only tripping themselves again.

As they sat down at the long, twelve-seat table in the kitchen, they read their Hogwarts letters while sipping cold lemonade and half-listening to Percy drone on and on to his mother about the state of his in-tray. 

Apparently, mix-ups from the Quidditch World Cup still needed fixing. Percy had gotten Howlers, letters with bubotuber pus in them, and people coming up to Percy and ranting about this and that. 

The Hogwarts letters had recommended dress robes this year to all years, and new books, which, of course she would get free and second-hand from her brothers. 

As for Fred and George, being seventh-years, had to take their final exams, which determined if they were to be fully-licensed wizards. They were also expecting some order forms to return from Lee Jordan, who also happened to be in on the joke shop thing. 

But they had to be ever careful now, because Mum had caught them in the middle of planning a shop blueprint in their room once. When she had gotten through with them, they looked half-dead.

Then Ron asked, "Hey Mum, is Harry coming over this summer?" "I'm not quite sure. Your father and I need to ask Dumbledore first." 

Ginny blushed at the mention of Harry. She wasn't quite over him yet. What made getting over him hard was the fact that he had saved her life in his second year. 

"Yeah, Mum, can we go and pick him up if Dumbledore lets?" said the twins. 

"No." said Mrs.Weasley. "Do you really think I'll let you go and pick up Harry after what happened to that poor cousin of his? Eh, George, Fred?" 

"_I'm_ going to go and finish up my report on those acrid Acid Pops. At least there are _some_ people that care about their careers", said Percy. 

Ginny noticed that he was eyeing the twins as he said this. _The twins will do fine, _Ginny thought_. People would love their joke shop._

Then Mrs. Weasley glanced at the clock and happily reported: "Your father's coming home". 

Just then, a small _pop! was heard from outside, the door opened and there stood Mr. Weasley, clutching an unconscious Errol by his feet. _


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two - [morning****]**

Harry awoke with a start, with sweat down his back, soaking his shirt. He had just had a nightmare. A dementor-filled one. Harry shuddered at the sight of their faces looming in on him, hands stretched out, ready to suck out his soul. 

A high, heartless laugh sounded through his ears, followed by his father's panic-stricken voice and his mother pleading to Lord Voldemort for Harry's sake. 

This was not the first time he had had that dream. It had been like an endless thought, playing over and over in his troubled head. 

"Boy! Get down here and watch the bacon! Don't you dare let it burn!" was the shrill voice of Aunt Petunia. 

With that, Harry was pulled from his dreams and back to reality. 

THUD. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUD. 

_Must be __Dudley_ making the day's entrance, _Harry thought__. _

Harry stumbled out of bed, changed out of his pajamas, and walked out to the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. 

There was mail and as Harry picked it up, and there was his Hogwarts letter. Eager, he dashed back to his room, stuck it into a drawer, and dashed back down again, handing Uncle Vernon the rest of the mail and went over to watch the bacon. 

It was burnt. Aunt Petunia was going to blow. Harry quickly ran upstairs, leaving Dudley alone in the kitchen with the bacon.

It was Wednesday, Dudley's birthday. 

Harry had hoped that Dudley would have to spend his birthday eating carrot sticks and granola bars. But Aunt Petunia decided to let Dudley have a special day. She was going to let him have "real food". 

Bacon, ice cream, cake, syrup, soda pop, fast food, anything to get Dudley happy again. 

As usual, Dudley's diet hadn't been going well. Aunt Petunia discovered him once scarfing up donuts he had sneaked into the house with help from Piers. 

She was bringing up the laundry when she walked into Dudley's room and saw him. Later, with Uncle Vernon home, they had this huge row and Dudley was put on another diet, one even stricter than the last.  

The refrigerator now contained no more than what a bird would be fed in a single week. 

Dudley had refused to speak to his parents now, only grunting whenever anyone spoke to him. 

But, since it was Dudley's birthday, Aunt Petunia decided to get her "Duddy-poo" to cheer up and realize that this diet was good for him. 

Harry could care less about Dudley. He had more important things on his mind. 

He had only received two owls since departing at King's Cross station at the beginning of summer. 

Hermione and Ron. 

The best friends anyone could ever have. Harry felt someone was poking him in the side. 

It was an owl. And with a letter from Sirius, too. 

The bird was—beautiful. It was an eagle owl, with silky plumes of gold and bronze in between its charcoal feathers. He guessed that Sirius was somewhere up north, where most eagle owls resided. 

_            Harry—_

_                        You'll be seeing me shortly. Details will follow in the next week or so._

_                                                                                                Love,_

_                                                                                                       Snuffles_

That would have ranked as Sirius's second-shortest letter ever. Harry wondered when he'd be seeing Sirius. 

He absentmindedly petted the eagle owl, stroking its glossy feathers. 

Harry snapped back and headed over to the desk to pen a response.

            _Dear Sirius,_

_                    How are you? You know, the Dursleys aren't about to welcome a supposedly wizard fugitive into their house sometime soon. Miss you lots. Write back soon. _

_                                                                                                            Harry_

Harry watched as the eagle owl flew of with Sirius's letter, and Harry watched until—

"HARRY POTTER!** _WHAT HAVE YOU_ _DONE WITH THE BACON__?" roared Uncle Vernon. __"YOU'D BETTER HAVE AN EXCUSE! _****DO YOU THINK YOU CAN RELAX AND LET YOUR BRAKFAST BURN AND THE HOUSE WITH IT?! EH, BOY? GET DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW." **

Harry leapt from his desk, threw open to door, and sprinted downstairs to the kitchen. 

He tried to imagine the scene: **_BOY HERO DEAD AT FOURTEEN_, says the Daily Prophet. He laughed inwardly at the thought. **

"Are you **_MAD_, boy? Endangering your cousin and us after what we've done for you?! Letting the house burn down? I caution you, boy, if it weren't for our pity on your selfless parents and you, we'd have thrown you to poverty! Understand?" whispered Uncle Vernon, his face a beautiful royal purple and his eyes bloodshot. **

"Er," Harry said, and he walked to the kitchen to clean up the sooty frying pan. This was going to be a l-o-n-g day. 

Later, in the afternoon, Aunt Petunia had assigned him to prune the rose bushes and to replace some missing tiles on the roof. His Hogwarts letter lay forgotten in his desk. 


	3. Chapter Three

 [Usual disclaimers apply for all chappies. Sorry about mistakes from previous chapter.]

**Chapter Three**

Draco Malfoy stared out the window, wishing he could go and practice Quidditch. But it was too hot to do anything outside. 

Draco loved Quidditch, but best of all, he loved flying. Soaring at breakneck speed with the wind in his hair, he felt free, away from his family, away from his troubles, and away from thought. 

_Life's so free, Draco thought__. He soon erased that thought. _

He had almost sounded sentimental. 

"Draco, dearest, you've _got to come out of there. Your father'll be home soon." _

"No, Mother. I need to finish my holiday work." Of course, Draco was lying. But what other excuse was there? 

"Draco, just come down to the lounge. I have something to show you. And your Hogwarts letter came in too, dearest." 

"Alright, Mother. Five minutes."  

Downstairs in the large, classy, lounge, Narcissa sat on the richly upholstered chaise lounge, elegantly sipping tea. _5:00, _she noted_. Lucius'll be late today. _

"Mother, what have you to show me?" said Draco eagerly. 

"Some school things_," she replied. _

"Let me see." 

"Here they are, dearest. I do hope they fit well." 

The first "school thing" was dress robes.  They were black velvet-y satin with thin platinum stitching and tiny platinum-colored buttons from the high collar to the knee. The rest of the robe hung to his feet. 

"Why'd you get them?" Draco asked. 

He didn't need them, even though he had grown out of his old vicar-like ones from last year. And his parents never let him attend his father's dinner parties, only to greet the guests and be shown off. 

"Dearest, your school letter requires that you have them this year. And you've outgrown your old ones," Narcissa replied. "Here, these are the others." 

She put her cup down and handed to Draco a package. 

A _Broomstick Servicing Kit._

"Awesome! Thank you, Mother," he said, remembering his manners. 

As a child, his mother had taught him the proper manners and etiquette that (quote Lucius) "comes handy". But they weren't just our normal 'please' and 'thank you' and 'pass the salt' stuff, it was (probably) the most severe form of manners ever. 

"Proper etiquette makes a proper man", as his father had lectured. Having the etiquette does not make a proper man. 

Draco remembered that fateful day in Flourish and Blotts when his father had forgotten his "proper etiquette" and tried beating Mr. Weasley to a pulp. 

Later that day, his father had lectured him on "putting the right people into their right place". 

Lucius did his part in teaching etiquette by summoning Draco to his study and for an hour or so, lecture him on being a proper Malfoy, as well a wizard. 

All of a sudden, there was a faint _pop! followed by "Draco! The study! Immediately!" _

'Course that was Mr. Malfoy. 

Draco put down the broomstick servicing kit, thanked his mother gain, and trudged upstairs. 

Not all the times when Draco was called up to his father's study did he get lectured, but once or twice they would play chess. 

It was not for idle pleasure, but "to gain combat experience for future use". Of course, not _real combat, but opponents that are in the way of one's "rise to power". _

Draco enjoyed these chess games, even if it wasn't for idle pleasure and for Death Eater training, which he should complete by seventh year. 

He didn't really want to be become a Death Eater, just plain old Draco Malfoy, but NO. His parents would (literally) kill him. 

From Day 1 he had been lectured on upholding his family's prestige and history and to keep maintaining that rank for many more years. This is why his middle name is Atlas. 

Being the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune and name, he had the Malfoy fate on his shoulders. 

Like Atlas, he held up everything. Draco used to like this authority of being Malfoy, but since last week, he had begun to resent being Draco Atlas Malfoy. 

More and more responsibilities weighed. 

Like, who should he marry? Must be a proper lady, a pureblood, a well-to-do family, high rank, beauty, well-brought-up, a pedigree, his mother's list went on and on. 

When his mother put it like this, it made the girl in question sound like a dog. 

There was one candidate Draco did most definitely _not _want as a partner. 

Pansy Parkinson, a pug-faced girl in Slytherin. 

She was constantly bothering him. That bitch. 

He had reached his father's study. Draco knocked and walked in. "Father, good afternoon." 

"Yes, Draco, you too. Now sit down. We have some things to discuss." 

"Yes, father?" 

"Your mother and I have—" 

"Master Malfoy?" it was their house-elf, Mopsy, who had come in with tea. 

"Put it on the table, then leave, _elf." Lucius spat out the last word like overcooked broccoli. _

"Y-yes, Master Malfoy." Mopsy left the room and quietly shut the door. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four – Author's Notes – I am attempting to spend more time on my chapters---make them longer. If you like short chapters, review with your opinion and if you want longer chapters, do the same. --- _Iowa Fun_ [screw the disclaimers]**

==========================================================================================================================

**            "Merlin's beard!" Ron exclaimed to Harry as they walked down Diagon Alley to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where Hermione said to meet her. Harry turned to see what Ron was talking about. Boy, was Ron right. Quality Quidditch Supplies had a bright, neon, sign loudly blaring the news---"ENTER TO WIN A FULL SET OFQUIDDITCH ROBES SIGNED BY TEAM MEMBERS OF PUDDLEMERE UNITED!" A large crowd of people were in front of the shop, swimming in and returning with papers in their hands. "Harry! Harry, we've _got to enter_!" said Ron with stars in his eyes. "Let's go then, Harry, hurry!" "But what about _Hermione_?" Harry replied. "I dunno. She'll understand." So the boys pushed and shoved through the crowd to get applications for the contest. The young man they met was looking very harassed, and they asked for two applications. "Sorry, there's only one left," he said handing the last one to Ron. "Oh. Well, then, shall I come back tomorrow?" Harry asked. "Not sure," the young man replied. "C'mon, Harry, let's go meet Hermione," said Ron cheerily. They walked towards the Ice Cream Parlor, where Hermione and her parents along with the rest of the Weasleys. **

           They all took up four little white wicker tables, and all of Hermione's schoolbooks took up one table alone. "Harry! Ron! It's great to see you both again!" shrieked Hermione, jumping up from her mountain of books and packages and leaping to the both of them. She was a bit awkward with Ron, settling down to just shaking his hand. But she hugged Harry. Harry remembered Hermione giving him a kiss on the cheek at the end of fourth year, he wanted to ask her about it, wanted to know why she did such a thing. Hermione was a bit taller than last year, almost Harry's height. Ron still towered over the two, however. "Have you entered the contest for the autographed Quidditch robes?" Hermione asked. "What do you think, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You still need to fill in the form," Hermione pointed out. "Harry, dear, would you like to finish one of these delectable, beautifully crafted sundaes?" asked Fred. "Er, no-no thanks, Fred," Harry replied. "I think I've seen enough of your er, er, compilations." "I'll have it!" Ron said eagerly. And he leapt from the table so fast he left a breeze. He grabbed the goblet, stuck the spoon in sundae, and brought it to his mouth.           

            "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArrrrrrrrrg!" screamed Ron, vigorously fanning his open mouth in response to Fred and George's concoction. It was made of shaving cream, raw cinnamon sticks, tea, butterbeer, yogurt, a canary cream disguised as a topping tart and who knows what. "Serves him right," said Hermione, her quill bobbing up and down on Ron's contest application. "Oi! Hermioneeeeeee, how could you say such a thing," replied a molting Ron. "Fred! George! What _have you done to Ron_?" said an angry Mrs. Weasley. She stomped over to Fred and George, grabbed them by the ears, and marched out of Diagon Alley. It was Harry that broke the utter silence left by Mrs. Weasley. Harry burst out laughing and soon did all else in their party. But quickly conversations broke out again. Mr. Weasley had become a good friend of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Right now the Grangers were trying to explain a dishwasher. They weren't very successful, so the three turned to make a conversation for themselves. Ron began the talking. "So, Hermione, did you visit _Vicky_ this summer?" "I _told _you, Ron, _don't-call-him-Vicky!" responded Hermione hotly. "Where did you go this summer, Hermione?" Harry inquired. "I went to Barcelona. Mum and Dad are going to go on a second honeymoon, so they might ask if I could stay with you guys." Ron's eyebrows arched. "__Us? With __us?" "Either that, or I'm going to have to stay with my aunt, and she's very religious. She'll lose her marbles if I told her I'm a witch." Hermione said. The three of them laughed again at this. "What's a honeymoon?" Ron asked. "Is it food?" "No," said Harry, trying to keep a straight face. "It's like a trip that Muggle couples take after they marry." "Oh." Said a rather disappointed Ron, who was apparently looking forward to a "honeymoon"._

            They were silent, sipping their pumpkin juice. "Oh!" Hermione said. "I almost forgot your holiday presents! Here they are. And Harry, yours doubles as both holiday and birthday." "Wow! Thanks, Hermione!" Ron pulled out an autographed picture of the Chudley Cannons, while Harry pulled out a 3 x 3 inch box of red and gold coloring. "Gryffindor colors. The box will enlarge to fit any object, and then shrink back to its original form, and, it's waterproof." Hermione said, in her know-it-all voice. "Why couldn't I get that?" said Ron. "Because I spent a bit of my birthday money on yours, alri—"  "Really, Hermione, you didn't need to get me the box. I don't really have anything worth—"  "But your Invisibility Cloak! You could carry your cloak around and not have Snape get your arse for it!" Ron interrupted. "C'mon, then, children. We have to get some school supplies." Interrupted Mr.Weasley, who was sending for the ice cream bill and quietly refusing to let the Grangers pay for the ice cream.  

            As the four walked down Diagon Alley after saying goodbye to Hermione's parents, the three listened to Mr. Weasley tell an anecdote from work several years ago, involving a cross between a lizard and a Hungarian Horntail, making what the Muggles called "Godzilla". It was quite funny, the Ministry had a hard time fighting "Godzilla" and giving out Memory Charms. It was terrorizing the people of Tokyo. When Mr. Weasley was finished, the four found that their feet had led them right to Gringotts, the wizard bank. They stepped inside, as Mr. Weasley had a deposit to make. "Ministry business," he said, briskly walking toward the nearest free goblin. It was Griphook, whom Harry had an acquaintance with back in his first year. "Ah, yes, we meet again. Well! Mr. Weasley! A deposit?" Griphook said, a smile on his face, very much unlike the grin he bore when speaking of the doors that melted away at his touch. "Vault number three-seventy-seven," replied Mr. Weasley importantly. "That's not my family's vault. It's a favor for the Minister. Here, the note." "Very well," replied Griphook, and led the four down a hall way with names etched onto the stone. Then down two flights of stairs and they then stopped at what looked like a Muggle elevator. Mr. Weasley opened the door, let everyone inside, then stepped in himself. "Forty-eight-thirty-two-fifty-five," Griphook said to the ceiling, which replied by sending all of them, with a _whoosh, deep, deep, down into Gringotts. "Where are we?" wondered Ron as they stepped out to meet quagmire on their shoe bottoms. "This way! Don't get lost. It's very easy to, in here." echoed Griphook, walking beside Mr. Weasley, who was looking for the vault. "I think we're on a cave of some sort," said Harry, desperate to fill the murky cave-like hollow with _something_. "I think we're lost," whimpered Ron, who was now clinging Harry's shirt tail in fear. "And I see spiders' webs." "Oh, do shut it, Ron, it's only a cave, and we're _not _lost. Look, there's your father." Hermione said calmly, also clutching Harry's shirttail. As they approached Mr. Weasley, the light from the vault flooded in and relief coursed their bodies._


	5. Chapter Five

 ==========================================================================================================================

**Chapter Five – ****Author's Notes – I swear that I will make my chappies longer. Anyhow, happy reading… screw the disclaimers…****J Tell me if I'm too detailed and that I should get on with the damn story. Okay? ****J**** I love you people, even if you don't review. **J**Nah…disclaimers apply, as usual.**

==========================================================================================================================

            "Harry! Hermione! Ron! Oi! Over here, yo!" Fred and George cried, hysterically waving and jumping up and down. Fred and George had been on lockdown by Mrs. Weasley for two weeks. The three rolled their trolleys toward Fred and George. "Ron, Fred, George, _don't you dare let me catch you doing something terrible…_" Mrs. Weasley said, straightening Mr. Weasley's collar absentmindedly. As Fred, George and the others stepped into the train, Harry suddenly had a realization—"Quidditch! Quidditch matches are back on! No Triwizard Tournament this year! Fred! George! Quidditch matches! Back on!" Fred let out a loud whoop of joy and lifted Ginny up, raising her like the Wood with the Quidditch Cup in Harry's third year. "Fred, _PUT ME DOWN!** OR MUM'LL HEAR ABOUT THIS**_!" Slowly, Fred set his sister down with exaggerated care, making everyone laugh. "See you all at school, then. We're going to join Lee," George said, walking to Lee's compartment at the back of the train. That left Ginny with Harry and the others. "Ginny, leave us, okay?" said Ron, opening the door to the nearest empty compartment. "Fine," Ginny huffed, and stomped off in search of a compartment. "You don't have to be so harsh on her," said Hermione, plopping down on one side of the compartment. "She's your sister, you know." "I know that. But she's getting weird lately. She shuts up more often. That's not Ginny, I know." Harry joined the conversation: "Suppose she's being possessed by Voldemort again?" They laughed. "Really, Harry. Speaking of—" "_Don't—say—the—name!_" hissed Ron, slamming the compartment door. "Ron, Voldemort's not—" "Harry! Shut up! And don't say the name!" 

[Later]

Hermione peered out the window, which displayed a foggy countryside, rimmed with evergreens and the hills. They had been traveling for quite some time now. Ron and Harry polished off the remains of today's lunch, which consisted of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs (Harry got Ptolemy and Morgana, Ron got Merlin and Flamel), Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Pepper Imps, and Licorice Wands. Ron and Harry had been portraying fearless knights battling with the Licorice Wands, circus performers breathing fire (somehow, they had managed _not to burn the train), and brave wizards tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I'm going to change," said Hermione, getting up and going out the door. "Ron? What time is it?" Harry asked. "'Round half-past two," Ron replied cheerfully, but sleepily. "We'd better change into our robes, too," Harry suggested, getting up and fishing his robes out of his trunk. "Ron? Ron? _Ron?! RON!_ Get up, mate. Change into your robes, it's seven already." "Mah---fummphmmmph mm ahhsssh," Ron replied, his breathing fogging up the windows. He was asleep._

[Much later]

            "RON! GET THE HELL UP! HOGWARTS IS A HALF HOUR AWAY! YOU CAN SEE THE CASTLE ALREADY!_ RON!" Harry said, waving his hand in front of Ron's face. Hermione, disturbed from her book by this, shoved Harry aside, and slapped Ron_._ "Hermione! What is your problem?" Hermione blew. "****__MY PROBLEM? I HAVE A PROBLEM? RON, YOU HAVE BEEN SLEEPING SINCE—SINCE EARLY AFTERNOON! IT'S—ITS—" Hermione paused, checking her watch. "****__IT'S HALF TO 9:00! YOU CAN SEE HOGWARTS! VERY CLEARLY, NOW! GO CHANGE! AND—AND EEEEEEEEEEK!" Pig was rolled up, crushed and purple from being against Ron's side from being slept on. "Ron, I don't believe it! You've _killed Pig_!" Hermione said, wringing her hands and her robes. Harry scratched his head. "Er, Hermione, he's still breathing. Look, see, Pig's alright. I think." Then Ron sat up, alarmed. "What have I done to Pig? What time is it? Harry? Hermione?" Harry pulled Ron up, so Hermione could gently extract Pig from his tight spot. "Oi! Pig! What've I done? Harry, what happened?" Hermione clucked at Pig, running a finger over his purple chest, now turning back chestnut. "Just go change into your robes," Harry said, handing them to him. "Why'd you sleep so much?" Ron blushed. "Oh, well, I stayed up finishing my holiday homework—by __moonlight."  "Why didn't you light a candle?" Hermione said, handing Pig out the window.  _

            "What're _doing, Hermione? You want Pig to blow away?_" "He's getting fresh air. I bet he'd be glad of breathing something else besides Chocolate Frog breath for the past few hours," She replied, chuckling. "Ron! Go change! Skedaddle!" Harry said, shooing Ron out of the compartment. Hermione set Pig back into the seat and closed the window. "Why didn't you go to Ron's this summer? Did Dumbledore say no?" "Yeah, Ron wrote to me, something about Dumbledore saying it's not safe—with Voldemort up again." "Speaking of You-Know-Who," whispered Ron, striding in with his robes on. "Did you here from Sirius this summer?" "Yeah, he owled me. The letter said that I'd see him soon and that another letter would come, explaining more. But that letter never came, and I never saw Sirius—or Snuffles at all." "Strange, Sirius isn't one to break promises, right?" Hermione replied. "He could have sent you another letter saying why he didn't show, right, Harry?" "Or maybe the De-dementors caught up to him," Ron said fearfully. Harry nodded. It was a possible explanation. He tried to look on the bright side. "Look! There's Hagrid!" 

            They stepped off the train, Harry in thought about Sirius, Ron finishing a last Chocolate Frog, and Hermione pinning her Prefect badge to her chest. "Ah, 'Ermione! A prefect this year, eh?" Hagrid boomed, raising his lantern for the first years to see. "Hermione, you're a _prefect? Like Fred and George said, 'it takes the fun out of life'. Hermioneee, don't leave us for rules and stuff like that," Ron pleaded, dropping to his knees and clinging to her robe sleeve. "Hermione? When'd you get the letter? And why didn't you tell us?" Harry said, dragging Ron up. "So you wouldn't talk me out of it," she snapped, prying Ron off of her. "Firs' years this way! C'mon, now, firs' years this way!" Hagrid boomed, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry ran off towards the other Gryffindors. _

            Bewildered, each Gryffindor climbed aboard a very odd-looking sleigh, with no horse. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville (with Trevor clamped tightly in his hands) climbed aboard, waiting for the sleigh to move. It didn't move. "Er," said Harry. "I wonder what's wrong?" Hermione replied, staring up into the velvet sky. "Do—do y—you think we—we're in tr-trouble?" asked a nervous Neville. Ron turned to him and said in a joking manner, "Oh, _Neville_, de—**_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK_**!"screamed Ron. The sleigh moved, up and towards Hogwarts Castle.  "Blimey!" said Ron. "You'd reckon that sleighs _flew, nevertheless that Muggles exist." Hermione punched him in the shoulder. "Only joking, only joking!"  Then Neville, fearfully, said the worst news to have been possibly received during a flight in a sleigh. "Hold on—where's Trevor? I swear I was holding him, I swear." He broke down into loud, wet sobs. "Oh, __Neville, you couldn't have __possibly lost Trevor—in this condition, I mean," said Hermione hastily. Ron and Harry peered over the sides of the sleigh as well as around it and on the floor. No Trevor. "Aw, Great Uncle Algie's going to _kill me,_" said a teary Neville, wiping his tears aside to look for Trevor. Hermione stood up. "Well, it's no good use to just grope blindly around the dark of the sleigh. You have to come prepared." And with that, she whipped out her wand and muttered _Lumos!_ and the sleigh was bright with light. "Now, any sign of Trevor?" she asked, moving her wand around the sleigh. "Neville, we'll come back and look for him, or ask Hagrid to help you. Wait, Neville, hold on. We're landing," Harry said, gripping the side of the sleigh tightly as the sleigh lowered itself alongside other sleighs. They all jumped out. Neville went over to Hagrid and the other three set off into the Great Hall. _

            Filing in, they saw Dean, Lee Jordan with a rubber chicken along with Fred and George, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan (who gave a wave to the three), Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Lavender Brown, who was gossiping with Parvati Patil, giggling madly. "Ron! Harry! Hermione! Over here! Dean!" shouted Seamus Finnigan, jovially waving and his head pumping up and down. Professor McGonagall was leading the rather long line of first years up the Hall, glancing back once or twice. 

            "Stay here, please," said Professor McGonagall, trudging up the hall with stool and hat in hand. "Now when I call your name, please sit on the stool and place the hat on your head. When it is finished, you will seat yourself at your House table. Now, Anion, Boudicca!" Boudicca walked, trembling, placed the hat on her head, and waited. A moment later—"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. "Atkins, Robert!" "HUFFLEPUFF" "Brenner, Julianne!" "RAVENCLAW!" "Brown, Lillian!" "GRYFFINDOR!" Lavender could be seen hugging her sister, who was eyeing Fred and George. "Cotswold, Martin!" "SLYTHERIN!" Gryffindor clapped loudly. "Connery, Eugenie!" "HUFFLEPUFF!"  "Connery, Frederica!" "SLYTHERIN!" "Connery, Georgette!" "GRYFFINDOR!" "Dem-Grade, Monica!" "SLYTHERIN!" Ron turned to Harry. "When are we going to _eat? I'm __starving!" "Oh, shut it Ron," said Hermione, clapping for "Enright, Alexander-John" ("RAVENCLAW!"). What seemed like hours later, Professor McGonagall ended with             "Weatherly, Thomas". ("Oh, thank Merlin!" said Ron)_

            "Harry, look! A new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Ron said, pointing to a middle-aged, healthy-looking witch chatting with Professor Sprout. She sat between Professor Sprout and a very ruffled-looking Professor Trelawney. "A _woman Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Fred. "This'll be an interesting year," said Seamus. "_What_?" said Hermione, getting annoyed. "Women aren't capable of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?! Let me show some women power…the rise of the witches when Anne Boleyn was accused of adultery and being a witch…you know…misogyny…hatred of women…Adam and Eve for Christians…Pandora for the Greeks…you know…Mary I, burning the Protestants…some were accused of being witches…the Salem witch trials in Boston…_those _women held fast to their innocence," she pointed out. "And the American women who wanted the right to vote…women are determined, Fred, Ron, Seamus…" Harry squinted. She looked familiar… the elderly witch…he had seen her somewhere, sometime…just _where_? _

            Dumbledore rose, cleared his voice, and got everyone's attention. "Welcome back, and welcome to all of you. This year, the Inter-House Championship is—" Dumbledore was interrupted by Fred, George, Lee, Harry and Ron, all emitting whoops of delight. "—taking place once again, also the Quidditch matches." He paused. Fred, George, Harry, and the rest of the members of the Quidditch teams erupted in loud whoops. "Now, to begin again. Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor and Ravenclaw will need new teammates, as some have left us. Tryouts are to be announced, the Dark forest forbidden to all students, once again. And, in closing, as you all are very hungry—" Dumbledore was interrupted by a grumble in Ron's stomach. Ron's ears flushed scarlet. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for demonstrating what I said before. Also, I am very pleased to announce our new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher— Professor Notswick!" Some clapping sounded as Professor Notswickrose and bowed. Dumbledore began as the noise died down. "Now, fill ye heart and soul." Food appeared and music was made, as the forks and knives clattered and talk broke out. 

            Hermione spoke. "Do you think we should visit Dobby and Winky? I'm a bit worried about Winky. You know, after, erm, last year," she said, passing George the gravy tureen. "Whoa, 'Er-my-knee, don't you think—" Ron swallowed. "Are you going to start up on that spew stuff of yours again? Because if you do, you might as well—" "It's not _spew, Ron, it's—" "We know already," Harry interrupted, and winked at Fred and George and Ginny. "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!" they all said, causing a smile to light up on Hermione's face. "That could be a part of our presentation! You know, to convince the rest of the school! Ooh, that would so fun! Let's see, what would we need? Well, first, permission from…" she trailed off lost in her thoughts of elf liberation. "Summer holiday has done some damage to our dear Hermione," said Ginny, laughing with the others. Soon the plates cleared and a second later, dessert appeared, from treacle tarts to peppermint fudge to frosted root beer floats. In not much time, the Hall was filled with satisfied groans and a clatter of forks and spoons being dropped on the tables._

           "Come now," said a cheerful Dumbledore. "Off to bed! Your schedules and things are in your houses already. Prefects, lead the way, please!" Hermione turned to the first years and said, "First year Gryffindors, FOLLOW ME! Now keep close, don't get lost. And if you do, get the Fat Friar or Nearly Headless Nick, alright? Watch out for Peeves and the Bloody Baron, though. Ready? Follow me! And, Lillian, you'll see your sister in the morning." Harry and Ron followed Hermione's group to Gryffindor Tower, where the Fat Lady sat in her painting, snoozing with a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. "Er..." said Hermione, turning to the fascinated first years. The Fat Lady awoke, much to her embarrassment. "Password?" "Biddy Faye," said Hermione, and stepped inside as the portrait swung forward. Ron and Harry ran to their room, with Neville, Seamus, and Dean behind. The last thing Harry heard was Hermione droning on about rules and bedtime and…oh, even _Percy_ wasn't this informative…maybe Hermione's just paranoid or nervous. Find out tomorrow…Harry rolled over and slept, his dreams once again dwelling on his parents, Voldemort and Dementors. 

            "HARRY! RON! WAKE UP!" screamed Neville, yanking the covers off. Then he proceeded to go to Dean and Seamus' beds. "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGG! Who in Hell is taking my blanket—" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGG! NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVILLLLLLLLLLLLLLE! Geroff me!" said Seamus, snatching his blanket back and rolling over, asleep again. "We're going to be late—for breakfast and Snape! You know Snape—we'll get a month's detention!" said Neville shrilly, almost like Hermione. "Snape?!" said Ron incredously, rubbing his eyes. "Oi! Harry! We've got _Snape_ first thing in the morning! Harry? _Harry!_" "Whassa matter?" Harry replied groggily, waking from another one of those memories. "_We've—got—Snape—first thing—in the—morning!" choked Ron and Neville. "WHAT?!" yelled Seamus and Dean, pulling on their robes and grabbing their books. Harry and Ron did the same, flung open the portrait door and scrambled down to breakfast. _

            "Where have you been?" hissed Hermione, reading _Year with the Yeti_ again. "Look! The mail!" said Ginny, pausing to look up at the wave of owls flooding in from nowhere. Hedwig came, bearing a large package and a letter. It was from Sirius, but Moony also. 'Snuffles sent me my birthday present, and look here, Moony sent stuff, too," said Harry, untying the package from Hedwig's legs. A gray thing came hurling at them three, splashing milk and pumpkin juice. "Open—oy, Ron, it's—it's _Errol._" She poked the gray mass gently, and Errol gave a weak hoot of assurance before Ginny pushed her goblet of pumpkin juice for him. Another weak hoot of thanks and Errol drank, then flew off with Hedwig supporting his wing. "Poor bird," said Ginny, wiping her goblet and pouring more juice. "He's so old; and I just want him to be happy, let him free of the pain…" Harry's package was open and it contained two presents: a heavy bronze bowl the size of a soup dish. Inside it was a note. One from Sirius, and one from Lupin. Ron and Hermione each took one and read aloud. "Well? What do they say?" asked Harry. Hermione handed hers to him, which was Sirius' letter. 

                        _Dear Harry,_

_                                    Sorry about my not seeing you over the summer. I had to lie low at Moony's house, because of the Dementors. They are ever more suspicious nowadays. I must be hidden. I got you your birthday present. It's a Mini-pensive, and I hope you like it. Bring the date of the next Hogsmeade trip with your next owl. Luck on your O.W.L.s, your mother would kill if you didn't go well..._

_                                                                                                                                                Love,_

_                                                                                                                                                   Snuffles_

_P.S. Moony sends best wishes and told you to be careful with the Marauder's Map. _

            "We've _got _study for our O.W.L.s, we take them this year!" said Hermione shrilly, stuffing _Year with the Yeti back into her bag, and pulled out __A History of Magic: Deux, by Bathilda Bagshot. "Hermione, we've _got all year to study for O.W.L.s_! Hermione?" said Ron, frantically waving his hand at her. She barely looked up. "Ron, I _do _wonder what your Mum'd say if you didn't do well," Hermione said gently, eyeing Ginny. "Yeah, Ron, remember Fred and George?" Ginny replied, elbowing him. "Of course. Hermione, give me that book. I'm facing de-gnoming gardens for life if I don't pass," he replied, reaching for __A History of Magic: Deux. _

            "Ron, you have your own," said Harry, examining the Pensive. "Hermione? You know about ancient runes, right? Can you tell me what it says here?" He pointed to the rim of the bowl. There were stick-like forms carved into the bronze. "I'm not too sure, it might take a while. I'm not that advanced at Runes enough to do 1st century Rune decoding. But I'll try," responded Hermione, getting up from the table. "We have…Potions first thing in the morning," she said, glancing at the rest of her schedule. "C'mon, Harry, you tell me who's awake at nine in the morning, eh?" said Ron. They set off for the dungeons. 

            Malfoy was already there, a smirk on his pallid face and Crabbe and Goyle on either of his sides. "Back, Potter? And Weasley! Ahh, new robes this year, eh? What, Daddykins won the lottery again?" he said, pleased to see the red in Ron's ears. Ron lunged. Harry and Hermione held him back, saying that Malfoy wasn't worth all this. Ron clenched his fist, then he walked into the dungeon and sat deep down in his chair, so only his bright ears were seen. "Today we shall begin—Weasley! Sit up or it'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor for not paying attention. And fifty, if need be," drawled Professor Snape. "Filthy bastard," muttered Ron as he sat upright. "Oh, Ron, just shut it," Hermione said. "You don't fifty points from Gryffindor this early on, do you?" "As I was saying before, today we shall begin our study on alchemy," said Professor Snape, his eye wandering over the class. "Can anyone, _besides_ Miss Granger, tell me what alchemy is?" Hermione, whose hand had been up since Professor Snape had said alchemy, took her turn to sink in her chair. "Longbottom? Any idea? A guess even?" said Professor Snape, advancing on Neville. "Honestly, I reckon that the thick skull of yours should be able to process such a question. How about—Malfoy? Malfoy, what is alchemy?" Malfoy smirked. "Alchemy is the power of changing something common, like wood, into something precious, like gold." 

            Malfoy smirked again as Snape awarded Slytherin ten points. "Pfft," said Ron. "Don't feel so bad about it, Hermione. You're better than Malfoy any day," said Harry, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "Thanks, you guys," replied Hermione. After an hour (or what seemed a century) of taking notes on attempts of alchemy by Muggles and the basic reasons of alchemy passed, the bell rang, and they filed out, yawning and complaining about the two rolls of parchment they had to write for homework. "_Two rolls of parchment! __On the uses of alchemy! There are, like, three!" roared Ron, shaking Harry vigorously. "R-r-r-r-Ron, l-l-l-l-et-let g-go of me, you prat," said Harry shaking Ron off and adjusting his bag. "Two rolls aren't that hard, Ron," said Hermione gently. "But you're smart, Hermione! You need a bit of studying and poof! You have 12 O.W.L.s! Harry and me need to study like hell, dammit!" Ron and Hermione argued all the way to History of Magic, with Harry chiming in occasionally. "You know, Ron, Hermione, why don't you play it out in a game of chess?" Harry suggested. "Alright…" replied Hermione. "Muggle Chess!" "NO, Hermione. Wizard Chess," responded Ron. "Muggle!" "Wizard!" "Shut up!" said Harry. "Mister Wisely, I suggest you and Miss Grant keep the noise down, we are about to learn about the Salem Witch Trials in America in the 1600s. Now, please take a seat and let us begin," interrupted Professor Binns, opening his textbook and coughing when the dust flew out. "In Salem, a few girls, aged between 12 and 18, decided…" Professor Binns droned on. People were nodding and napping. Neville snored, but Harry put a book to stifle the sound of the snores. _


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six – I'm trying for longer chapters. In this chapter, THEY finally meet and then we'll have to see what happens, what I, the valiant writer, decides to do. And yes, I know this chapter's a bit funny, with the breakfast and sorts and the Quidditch stuff, but I'm too lazy to go re-write it, so bear with me and skip it if you want. Chapter Seven should be more along the lines of the book. **

"Harry, you do remember tryouts are tomorrow, right?" Hermione said, peering from her book. 

"Of course, Hermione, how the hell could I not forget?" Harry replied, burying his head in his toast.

 "Aw, come off it, Harry. I'm sure you'll find a replacement for Wood. Somehow," said a bleary-eyed Ron, yawning into his eggs. 

"I can't. Wood's…irreplaceable, don't you think?" responded Harry, picking the toast out of his hair. 

"Tryouts are Tuesday, and its Monday," said Hermione, patting Harry on the back. "You've got loads of time to think about it with the rest of the team. And besides, who's going to be captain of the team this year? 

"No, I suppose Dumbledore or McGonagall picks. Wouldn't that seem more practical than picking straws?" 

Ron cleared his throat. "Harry? Where's your Pensive?" he said hastily, poking at his eggs. 

"Up in the dormitory. Why?" 

"Well, I was thinking…we could clear Siri—Snuffles' name if you spilled your thoughts…right?" 

Hermione cut in, her book slamming shut. "Ron! How could you? No one's going to believe a bunch of fifth years trying to prove Snuffles innocent," she said. 

"After what happened with Barty Crouch last term. You know—with Fudge and those—things." 

"Harry's got the rest of the year to worry about that," Ron cut in again. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/         

            They were walking towards Divinitation after lunch. 

"Ugh, Trelawney, that old bag," groaned Ron. "Why do we have to have Divinitation right after lunch on Mondays? I could chuck from the fireplace stench," And Ron pretended to throw up, and it was done very dramatically. They ended up in fits of laughter. At the staircase to the North Tower, they parted and Hermione scuttled off to Arithmancy. 

            "Ah, my dears, so good is it to see you all in the physical world again," came the whispery voice of Professor Trelawney. Her bracelets clinked as she stepped over to the students. "Lavender, that summer love will fade within a week, for another shall take his place," she said sinking herself into her armchair. Lavender blushed and Parvati giggled madly. 

"She's gone—" 

"Harry Potter," Professor Trelawney said, placing her hand over her heart. "I sense a new fear in you. Mind, as those born into hot weather is likely to succumb easily." 

Harry stared at her. 

"Yes, Parvati?" Parvati was raising her hand. 

"Those born under the planet Mercury are likely to withdraw often," she said, beaming. 

"Thank you, Parvati. Oh, and don't open the letter tomorrow. Bubotuber pus is waiting." 

Ron raised his hand. "When's Harry going to die this year, Professor? Any idea?" 

Professor Trelawney gasped. "You sound amused at the idea that Harry Potter will die," she responded, her eyes closed. Lavender and Parvati leaned in closer to her, eager to listen. 

"Ron…you prat…shut it," Harry said, punching him on the shoulder. 

"What? She says it almost every year, so just ask her and get it over with, right?" Ron whispered to Harry.

"My dear, if you not be careful lest you jump too quickly, my words shall come in handy," Trelawney said opening her eyes. 

"Right," said Ron, and rolled his eyes. 

            "Dean, dear, before you jump off my ladder today, would you re-tie the knots on the top of the ladder? Thank you, dear." Trelawney said. 

"Rubbish," muttered Dean. 

"And now, onto palmistry again. In our first year together, we didn't get very far, and now it's more advanced. The lines will have newer meaning. Read pages 333-340 to understand palm reading. A diagram of a palm is on page 518. Afterwards, practice palm reading with a partner and jot what you have read down." 

"Palm reading? Is she going mad?" Harry muttered, flipping through his textbook. 

"I _know," Ron muttered back. "Mum doesn't believe that stuff. Says its wizard rubbish." _

"Yeah, some Muggle ladies read palms and stuff…Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon nearly whopped Dudley after he'd been to one at a school carnival." Harry chuckled. "The old woman said that Dudley would be very successful and rich. Of course, Dudley wanted to hear more. So he waddled back home for more money to pay the old bag and Aunt Petunia locked him in the house." 

Ron chewed his quill. "Heart lines? Life lines? What the hell is this stuff? I thought we covered this already. Wait, wait…oh, look, Harry, Reading Palms, Reading Minds: Chapter 17. Ugh." 

"Right. Ron, give me your palm," Harry said nonchalantly. 

"Ahh…" Harry said peering from his textbook. "You have a…kind spirit…and are…loyal…to…friends and family…life…is…overwhelming…for you," He pronounced, his eyebrows knitted. 

"What? You've got to be kidding…kind spirit…bah." Ron muttered. 

"Here, let me read yours." Harry put his hand and Ron studied it, with "hmms" and "oohs" and "ahhs" every now and then when he peered at his textbook. 

"It says here that you've got a—a fragile balance…hah!" Ron laughed, his hand on his lap and tears rolling. 

"What?!" Harry said. He grabbed the book and scanned the page…"You're right, Ron." The bell rang, and they gathered up their books, with Professor Trelawney voicing the homework. 

**_THUD._**

****

Dean had forgotten to secure the knots at the top of the ladder. "Told you so," came a misty voice. The class sniggered. 

"The old bat probably rigged the ladder, _Parvati_," Ron assured, putting much emphasize on Parvati's name. She whispered hastily to Lavender, who then threw a furious glance Dean. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

            At dinner, Draco Malfoy finally opened the letter that his father had sent him this morning, along with the usual sweets and tarts from home, which he had opened in the morning. Crabbe and Goyle and Draco had scarfed them up during break in the common room. 

"I hope he's seen that new broom prototype…I want it already. Won't Potter be surprised when _I get that new Helios I. Eh, Goyle? Crabbe?" _

Goyle lifted his head up from his plate, which he was leaning so close into you could barely measure an inch. "Yeah. How fast does it go again?" 

"Think it was 289 miles per second, plus automatic brakes, diamond-hard polish, _and _its registration number stamped in platinum ink," said Malfoy rather smugly, a smirk lighting up his face. "Father promised he'd get me one of those for my birthday or Christmas, and along with that brand-new broomstick servicing kit. All that, plus all the stuff I usually get." 

"Wow," whispered Goyle. 

            Draco Malfoy usually got about thirty Galleons spending money from his rich Grandmother, whom his father hated for keeping her will a secret…and money from his mother and father, loads of presents from them, sweets, and the works. 

            "You know, I think I'll go have a bloody walk…bloody pumpkin juice is getting to my head," Draco announced, getting up, hoping with all his might that Pansy would not notice his leaving the Great Hall. He joined the pack of weary sixth years trudging out of the hall. Breaking off from them as they approached and passed the exit. He ran out to the lake, breathing in fresh air, acknowledging that it had recently rained. The lake shimmered in the bright moonlight, and all around the lake, the trees and bank were all bathed in the moonlight. Draco shivered. It was cold, even thought he had this thick charcoal grey sweater on underneath his black school robes. He should have fetched his cloak from the Slytherin dorm before coming out here. He pulled out his silver pocketwatch from his pocket and examined it. Three-quarters past eight. _Plenty of time, he thought. Rolling up his sleeves, he readied to have a little dip in the lake. _

Trouble was, there was already someone there, her feet in the lake, humming merrily to herself. 

 /\/\/\/\/\/\/

            Draco stopped cold. How was he supposed to think out here when there was an—an _intruder in the quiet, placidness of the lake? He couldn't go back to dinner, he was not at all hungry. He couldn't go back to the Slytherin common room, Pansy and her ditzy gang would be there, the room cloaked in the musky smell of nail polish and the sound of pages being flipped while they browsed the latest _Witch Weekly_, all the while playing with each other's hair and rating the boys. And he couldn't go to the library, that was Ravenclaw and the Mudblood Granger's territory. _

            So he unrolled his sleeves, stuck his hands deep into his pockets and sat quietly, unnoticed on a cold, grey bench, damp from the rain. He was going to observe this girl at the lake until she got out of it, so he'd finally get some alone time. 

            She didn't budge after ten minutes. Her small clump of stuff beside her remained unmoved. Draco took the clump to be her cloak and shoes. So Draco shed his cloak, folded it and placed it on the wet bench, rolled up his sleeves and walked off in the girl's direction. _Wouldn't her feet be prunes by now?_ Asked Draco to himself. 

            The girl at the lake tossed her hair from her face. The moonlight caught it and Draco could see the color. 

"Bloody hell," Draco murmured. Sitting the lake bank, still humming merrily, was no other than Ginny Weasley. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Author's Notes: 

 Did you all like it? I myself hate ¾ of this chapter, until Draco gets out onto the lake and sees our lovely Ginny. Now, heed, because many people have many different opinions as to what Draco and Ginny look like. I myself like them as they are and will appear in the third Harry Potter movie; Draco, sleek hair, no gelled-back helmet, and Ginny, pale, freckled, plain-looking, and bright red hair. But since they're older, you'll have to imagine Ginny [Bonnie Wright] a little taller and with longer hair. Yes, I am fully aware that I'm babbling, but it's all for sake of people not getting an idea of Draco with a killer six-pack and Ginny with an ample chest and ample behind, as I once made the mistake to read a fic with them described like that, only worse, in which Ginny's in tight short-shorts and a tank top from J.Lo and Draco's hair is "sexily gelled back, a little of it falling into his baby-blue eyes". PUR-LEAZE. 

            Chapter Seven will be different, I swear to you all. Why? Because it skips a year so I won't have to do so much work if I let it stay in 1995, i.e., OotP. So I hope you all liked it and please review. And flame all you bastards want about my contradiction of what some author described Draco and Ginny to be like. HELLO!! Stick to the books! Always stick to the books! Which is why I am half-against the commercialization of children's books, i.e., the Harry Potter movies. 


End file.
